


I got you a Christmas sweater!

by yourKitty



Series: Christmas Drabbles [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Holiday Sweaters, Holidays, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Sweaters, Ugly Holiday Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 05:46:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13024530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourKitty/pseuds/yourKitty
Summary: You're a great gift giver.





	I got you a Christmas sweater!

By this year you’d begun to loathe Christmas shopping. Only this aspect had ground your gears until the gears descentigrated into rubbish. A new relationship meant new expectations, too. This new fling in question, which you hoped wasn’t only a “fling,” had you mindlessly scrambling. For what, you were unsure. 

Hesitantly, you rapped your knuckle against the aging door, refraining anxiously. It felt awkward enough coming over. In all honesty, you hated visiting John while his roommate was there. And he was. Quite often. So, you had to watch your every move to not become a disturbance or catch an insult he’d toss your way. John normally failed to comment when you shot complaints at him, fully grasping how infuriating Sherlock is. To him, you were more of a buffer for distraction rather than a developed being with thoughts, aspirations, and genuine love for your boyfriend. 

The door opened swiftly, but no one was awaiting you. Curiously you poked your head in and chirped, “Hello?” 

John scurried out from the kitchen and greeted you warmly, much relieved to be in your presence. “Merry Christmas, (Y/N).” 

“Merry Christmas.” You leaned in teasingly, hovering your lips over his, not committing to a kiss. He didn’t decide to steal one for himself, allowing you to place the gifts you brought under the Christmas tree, which was surely there only by his doing. You gave a quick acknowledgement nod to the roommate, in no rush to begin conversation. 

With your head weighing like rocks on your hand, you listened to Sherlock and John bicker all night. Every few seconds you had to glance back to give a meaningful look to John, painfully bored. Eventually he gave in and decided to abandon Sherlock in the kitchen to leave him to whatever it is he liked to do in there. 

“Are you done?” You never mean to speak so harshly, but by this point you’d been waiting for an hour for John to be ready for you. 

“Uh, yes. I’m done. Sorry,” he replied shortly. 

“Great,” you leaped out of the chair to embrace him, eager to show him what you’d put so much thought into. You bent down and held out the box to him, the type one would get at clothing stores if so desired. 

He took it quite sheepishly, as if he were fearful of what it contained. You hadn’t wrapped it, it was just taped at the sides, simple to remove with a flick of the finger. The box’s top was lifted and revealed to John the ugliest Christmas sweater one could possibly imagine. Positively nightmarish in its hideousness. Every flamboyant fashion designer’s hell. The woollen sweater was a forest green, matching red cuffs and neckline, accentuated by cherry red and canary yellow zig-zagged stripes across, a crowded christmas tree superimposed, decorated with ornaments of lavender, sky blue, chartreuse, and orange. The tree’s tinsel were threaded with silver accents. Oh, and you couldn’t forget the stiff vertical striped across the zig-zags, which were a faint burgundy. John looked up to you with the most comically bewildered eyes. 

“(Y/N)... I don’t know what to say.” 

“John, you don’t have to say anything. Merry Christmas.”


End file.
